I was feeling listless and writing-averse. So I made a list, solving the first problem while exacerbating the second
A tiny sprinkling of the stuff transforming life into an unwanted war with badly misprogrammed people
Whenever I write lately about either competitive distance running itself or the transformation of its public face into an unappealing freakshow of deceptions and caustic social morbidities, I feel like I’m taking an easy off-ramp. When I find myself once again hacking away at the obvious and undeniable stupidities and insincerities driving and fueling everyone involved with the David and Megan Roche/Trail Runner cult of ignorance, incoherence, science denial, unpretentious cowardice, narcissism, and hypocrisy—a set of characteristics formally known as profound political libtardation—or point out yet another pile of lies or short-sighted article from another pink-haired or Afropathic member of “the running media,” I’m restating the obvious practically by rote, sometimes with fresh names.
And if readers aren’t bored by this, repeating basic facts about this cadre of intellectually bereft and psychologically broken bubble-dwellers will ultimately go nowhere, as this class of poorly socialized and furiously self-stroking mini-proselytizers will never acknowledge a single one of their own countless fabrications, slanderous statements, double-standards, and dismissals of basic biology, let alone strive toward escaping the throes of catastrophic moral, mental, and spiritual retardation.
I have a standing excuse to “cover” the subject since I’ve been doing it for a long time. But regardless of what others expect, whenever I publish a post about sports—and as of this writing, track and field and road running arguably both still count as sports, albeit in limited, definitionally warped senses—I’m dogged by the psychic pangs of shirking a greater responsibility, if perhaps only to myself. Focusing on the antics of athletes and “athletes” alike implies hiding from exploring realities infinitely more consequential than the infestation of distance running with scammers, skanks, jet-setting climate-crisis mavens, systematically insincere activists, and kelpy-assed and boozed-up paragons of “athletic nutrition” who resemble either Jabba the Hutt or the Crypt Creep, often in lurid, ghastly combinations.
History suggests that I could and will go on. But despite the ease of finding reasons to shun running fandom specifically, I find it increasingly inane to pretend that any sporting enterprise should be commanding much of my attention at this stage. That goes for sports that, while still existing as the same carnival of ‘roided-up pseudo-cyborgs they’ve always been, have proven more resistant to the plagues of Wokism than jogging for comparative chickenfeed has. I don’t know how anyone attuned at all to the ills of civilization can spend ten minutes looking at batting averages or race results without the sense that he or she should, given the obvious spare time at his or her disposal, be keeping an eye out for tragedies arguably more urgent than a bland array of libtards with room-temperature IQs and manufactured or embellished academic credentials, usually seen crowing in pidgin English from puke-rimmed lips about what innovative and brave aerobic trailblazers they are and rapidly blocking anyone who takes issue with this nonstop sewage-stream of crybaby chic.
Everything after this section proposes an imaginary future in which the 2024 presidential election will be anything besides one more absolute dirty-ass sham. There are no good choices anyway on either side, so don’t even plan to bother.
Joe Biden would have an approval rating of well below five percent if the average American human being still possessed more than half a functioning brain. Unfortunately, most people are born unable to escape their own lack of curiosity owing to basic organic factors, and in the past five years, even a fair number of previously agile minds have been captured by frank anti-reality campaigns surrounding gender, covid, covid “vaccines,” race, Russia/Ukraine, Israel/Palestine, obesity, and the hundred or more hot-button issues that elude my mind or defy my willingness to type.
One example of this capture: In response to the implication above that Biden is a horror-show of a president, no small number of readers immediately thought “but Trump,” even though Donald Trump has no more to do with the purposeful rot within the Biden administration than you or I do. You’ve been conditioned to react that way by willingly immersing yourselves in media sources and consulting figures I have continually been exposing as fraudulent in the extreme. Perhaps I should not be surprised that it is mostly other leaky-assed, dribble-dicked Boomers denying the essential facts of Biden and his minions.
Biden & Co. are both corrupt beyond traditional political measure and hopelessly demented, and anyone who argues with these facts at this stage is either lying, deceived, or insane. Why? Well:
After sending the American victims of last year’s Maui fires—”wild” in origin or otherwise— $700 per family, and completely ignoring East Palestine, Ohio’s poor, MAGA-vibey, and thus voiceless and irrelevant American residents after a train loaded with poisons left their community nigh uninhabitable, Joe Biden has authorized millions of dollars in benefits for illegal immigrants and is hell-bent on sending an additional $100 billion from the American printing-presses to keep corpses piling up in needless conflicts around the globe and weapons-manufacturers and fellow Ziopaths happy.
Maybe you haven’t noticed yourself just how decrepit and downtrodden the entire interior of U.S. is, entirely apart from the rampant crime, drug intoxication, and homelessness characterizing America’s most populous cities. And, safely ensconced as I am among newly mask-happy Boulder, Colorado’s smattering of opt-in paupers, I haven’t seen much of the decay first-hand either. But in my various long road trips in the last five years, in crossing states like Nebraska, Kansas, Iowa, Missouri, Ohio, Kentucky, Indiana, western Pennsylvania, and especially southernmost Illinois, I’ve seen, and felt, a pronounced absence of vibrance and basic hopefulness.
This is going on in massive, fi thinly populated, swaths of the country. Everyone seems to have forgotten about Biden’s promise to do what Trump failed to do and pour billions into making the nation’s infrastructure safer or at least more presentable. And this pervasive aura of resignation bordering on nihilism on washed-out faces in gas stations and supermarkets across the American heartland was all predictably worse in the trips I took after March of 2020.
The have-nots are an enormous and completely ignored segment of America. As an excuse to ignore them, the government has simply declared them all white-nationalist security threats, making them not only a political adversary but unworthy of any dignity at all. (By the way, Republicans, if they cared to, could have been making serious noises about all of the issues I’m raising today. Republican voters know this, while Democratic voters must imagine Republicans being perfectly happy with people like Mitch McConnell and Kevin McCarthy. We have all been sold far down the river, past its mouth and out into the ocean, and we can keep waving our “D” and “R” banners until we all go under the waves while these enfeebled yet demonically persistent cocksuckers pause to wave kindly from the shore.Having a brainless president who has been reduced to growling about the need for more lethal bombs and explosions while 99 percent of Americans suffer is by itself a bleak prospect. But these trivialities afflicting the President of the United States are apparently not evidence enough that the people in charge of the country are jamming their collective syphilitic ramrod up the citizenry’s beleaguered cornhole, maybe some people prefer easily digested graphical information.
Such as:
I’m guessing most of the recent uptick is the result of fentanyl. Everyone has heard of this drug by now, but as most people lack backgrounds in both pharmacology and intravenous drug use, few people are equipped to understand how deadly it is.
When I was in medical school in the mid-1990s, I was at one point over two years free of alcohol and attending a weekly group for health professionals recovering from addiction. There I met multiple anesthesiologists and certified nurse anesthetists who had become hooked on fentanyl, used to induce unconsciousness while other drugs maintain it and, ideally, muscle paralysis. One of these people was new to the group and still had black bruises on his chest from being resuscitated by his co-workers after overdosing in the operating suite (not during a procedure, for what that’s worth).
One of the things I remember these pioneers-of-sorts emphasizing is that if fentanyl ever became a street drug at scale, watch the hell out. The morgues in some places wouldn’t be big enough to hold the bodies, depending on how well the stuff was cut. This was coming from people who were literally trained experts in titrating drug doses properly, and every one of them had nearly died and wound up in a Caduceus group.
Fentanyl is anywhere from 50 to 100 times as potent as oxycodone (Oxycontin), itself a more potent drug than morphine. Potency is a separate concern from ceiling effect, but what this means is that a given dose of fentanyl has 50 to 100 times the physiological effect of the same dose of oxycodone. That includes the respiratory paralysis that ultimately kills most of the people who fatally overdose on opioids.
An opioid-naive person who shot essentially any amount of this substance into their body would have a high probability of simply stopping breathing and dying. I suppose you can trust the titration skills of a few determined street dealers and cartel operatives, but I wouldn’t go there.
Another side of this is that fentanyl addicts have little choice but to either get clean—an incredibly uncomfortable and prolonged process compared even to the hell of “kicking” heroin—or continue using fentanyl. Someone hooked on this potion could pop hydrocodone (Vicodin) all day long and the effect on their over-bombarded, down-regulated opioid receptors would be approximately that of handful of jelly beans.
Isn’t this something public health officials should be worried about? Derrrrrp. Screw y’all, we got wars to fund and massive surveillance mechanisms to expand and implement! (Vote blue plz)Maybe the silence has to do with the government’s unwillingness to enact any sort of interdiction on a significant portion of the U.S. fentanyl supply:
And despite an alarming percentage of the American population credibly claiming to be borderline broke and accurately complaining that food costs around twice as much as it did just five years ago, the government and its media operatives are gaslighting the public into accepting one more of its patent, banal fictions: The economy is thriving, and people are getting by.
Really?
The hilariously and defiantly bent Fani Willis is more meme than prosecutor at this point. In fact, this was already true back in October.
It’s one thing for the uniparty and its financier-blackmailers to resort to undisguised lawfare as a means of keeping Trump off the November ballot and, ideally, dead, in prison, or both. It’s another for them to recruit a slate of rank bozos like Willis, Alvin Bragg, Jack Smith, a coterie of paid-off cartoon-character-caliber judges, and other hyped-up mental and moral midgets to try to carry it out. A lot of lawyers and judges are going to wind up disbarred within a year, I’d bet.
Getting back to things that matter so little that I write several posts a week about them, distance running at the promotional and commercial level has become a drunken, sloth-celebrating, genderfluid swarm of grifters and dopers, with PMC and NPC types with brains turned to mush at “elite” institutions cheering on these cultural and interpersonal degeneracies, all of which are inorganic and instead flow from the madly winking bungholes of those whose raison d’etre is control through forced mass disruptions—BlackRock, George Soros, Bill Gates, and other prominent psychopaths obsessed with jabbing, surveilling, robbing, censoring, and otherwise engineering human societies into unresisting submission. As powerful as these people are, they are also overconfident, self-aggrandizing fools, and the only assured actual result of what we’re seeing is some kind of post-Mad Max nation-of-me hellscape.
The expulsion below from Alison Wade, who publishes a popular newsletter called Fast Women, captures most of the reasons I can’t be bothered to pay attention to organized distance running. I’ve posted it before and I’ll keep posting it until someone can explain why she and so many other women runners hold this position, because Wade et al. are notoriously reluctant to explain the underlying motivation.
There is nothing “tricky” about this. There is no condition under which males belong on female teams, and anyone who legitimately believes otherwise is not merely a moron and a cunt, but mentally disturbed. Yet Wade at last notice was accepting both Patreon and Substack subscriptions, has hundreds of paying subscribers as well as thousands of free readers, and even enjoys sponsorship from New Balance.
The only tricky thing is getting a direct answer to the question, “Why would someone who frames herself as a man-hating ‘feminist’ channel so much of her resentment toward girls and women?”, because Wade and her ilk aren’t interesting in talking to people who inhabit reality. And to put in terms Wade would appreciate, I would appreciate an explanation, even if just to confirm what everyone can see. Because it’s genuinely weird to see “feminists” like these unless you reject the idea that they actually care about sports, which they don’t. Women like Wade pretend to care about sports as an excuse to not-so-secretly bludgeon the girls and women they’re jealous of and saw as Mean Girls in high school.
You won’t get this or answer from Wade herself or from any of the harridans in her skanky followership about why they are “pro-trans inclusion.” but I think I might have just offered a clue. And unless and until biology-deniers like Wade, Erin Strout, Nikki Hiltz and their cackling, wall-eyed enablers have departed the scene, and every gaily prevaricating cheater “of color” is negated or marginalized, I will retain nothing but scorn and laughter for the whole oinked-up and orchestrated display, from the sessile, yammering macropersons of color platformed by various companies as unwitting testaments to white condescension to the jittery, drugged-up micropersons of all shades available for dubiously rooting for at the big meets.
But it looks like the Wade school of feminists may get their perverse wish. Libtards aplenty are presently urging Biden to finalize changes to Title IX that would make it next to impossible to keep boys and men off girls’ high-school teams and women’s collegiate teams:
Under the policy changes proposed by the Biden administration in April, blanket anti-trans sports bans in schools would violate Title IX, with a few exceptions. The federal law would still allow for competitive high school and college sports to restrict trans students’ participation if those schools minimize harm to students and follow other guidelines set out by the agency.
Remember when liberals worried about stupid stuff like better health care and humanistic foreign policies instead of the availability at the nearest Planned Parenthood of fully functional she-peckers cobbled together from toenail clippings and parboiled navel lint?
Joe Biden, by this inarguable standard, cannot or refuses to distinguish between male and female human beings, despite having an obvious fondness for underage people of only one sex (as far as anyone knows). He’s planning to destroy a landmark piece of legislation intended to help girls and women so that a bunch of mentally ill, cavorting dudes can play too. If this alone isn’t enough to discourage you from voting for this prison-worthy shambling scab, I don’t think any other arguments will either.
Not until Southern Illinois, East Palestine, or sudden, “inexplicable” overcrowding comes to visit you, too.